


Brendon the Sad Prostitute

by fictionalaspect, sunsetmog



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Curtain Fic, Fisting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, Safer Sex, Sex Worker AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 08:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/pseuds/fictionalaspect, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Notfic which contains ridiculous melodrama, angst for the sake of angst, blowjobs, fisting, hurt/comfort, prostitution, sex workers, strip clubs, and happy endings. For ladyfoxxx and roga, who requested to see it on twitter ♥.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brendon the Sad Prostitute

**Author's Note:**

> PS - This is notfic! Don't do what Brendon and Spencer do in this at home, because oils corrodes latex! Also don't take your sex advice from fanfiction in general :D

Let's talk about Brendon the sex worker who has had a terrible life and Spencer the...non-sex worker. The something or other who somehow comes into contact with Brendon and then they fall in love.

—

I love it when one of them is angsty and alone. Maybe the band blew up within about six weeks but by then Brendon was already homeless and living in a single room and he ended up broke and making money by turning tricks, and then two or three years later, Spencer comes home from college and goes out with some of his friends from high school and finds Brendon offering blowjobs.

—

Yyyy exactly that, omg. The band self-destructed or they almost made it and then it fell apart, and then neither of them could stand to look at one another anymore, so they all lost touch and Ryan went off to LA to do his own thing with the money inherited when his dad died (assume he had a solid Life Insurance policy) and Spencer went off to college and Brent went...somewhere and Brendon was left on his own, with the option of either going back to his family or staying where he was and turning to either dealing drugs or prostitution, and he went with the option that seemed like it might have at least a chance of not killing him eventually. Maybe.

—

He'd be so lonely, and he'd work a day job and just do the blow jobs for the couple of weekends a month when he couldn't make ends meet, or that time he needed extra money to get groceries, and he's okay, he's fine, he's tough and he can do this and it doesn't mean anything. Which is when Spencer finds him, too skinny and tough and touting himself for cash.

—

Maybe he works at a bar at a strip club, and most of the time he's okay just mixing drinks, but sometimes it gets a little tight around the end of the month when rent is due. The strip club is a sleazy prostitution front anyway, so the first time someone asked him where they could find something a little different than the girls on stage, he didn't hesitate to take the guy in back and blow him, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that no one would give a shit. Now Brendon has an agreement with the management and it's not like he does it a lot - most months - but it's at least once or twice a week, and there's always some guy in with a crowd of guys at a bachelor party or whatever that's more interested in Brendon than the girls onstage. Brendon's job is to keep him interested and make money for the house, so everyone's happy. For certain values of happy.

—

So obviously when Spencer ends up at home and an old childhood friend is getting married he can't really back out of the bachelor party, even if he doesn't like the guy anymore and he thinks his friends are douchebags and he could care less about staring at tits all night, considering he's gay and all. But the guys don't know that, and Spencer doesn't feel like making a big deal about it and his mom is friends with the groom's mother, so he just goes and sucks it up and resolves to drink enough so that no one will notice he's not staring at the girls. It's only two hours of his life. It's not that big of a deal.

—

There are just a lot of tits everywhere, and it's not like he's anti-breasts, it's just that they do nothing for him at all, and he kind of thinks strip shows are kind of sleazy anyway. So when they run out of drinks he offers to go to the bar, since he can probably have time for another couple of shots before he has to go back to the table. 

The bar is pretty empty—mostly because there are near-naked girls offering a table service—but Spencer slides onto one of the stools and waits for the one guy behind the bar to finish up and come get Spencer's order. Which is when he sees a guy come out of the side door doing up his flies, followed by Brendon wiping his mouth furtively with the side of his hand.

—

Brendon doesn't recognize Spencer, since it's been at least five years and Spencer now has a full beard and longish hair and looks absolutely nothing like he did in high school. Brendon comes back behind the bar and ties his apron on and he's still wiping his mouth and the other guy putting Spencer's tray of drinks together is giving him a knowing look and Brendon's putting on a good show of it, acting like it's fine, but Spencer used to know Brendon really, really well and he apparently still remembers Brendon's tells because he can see the way Brendon's hands are shaking slightly as he tries again and again to tie his apron. Brendon's not okay, and Spencer knows it, and he doesn't want to think about what he just saw but he didn't miss the way the guy had run his palm over Brendon's back pocket and now Spencer can see a wad of bills stuffed in there, because Brendon's back is still turned. 

—

And Spencer just—he doesn't know what to do. He has no idea what to do. Any minute now, Brendon's going to turn around and see him and Spencer is just—frozen.

He just—he has no idea what to do. He can't run away and he can't stay here and then Brendon turns around and says, "What can I get you?"

Spencer can tell the moment Brendon recognizes him, and then he can tell the moment that he realizes that Spencer saw him come out of the back room with that guy. 

Brendon skin burns red. "Hi," he says, after a moment. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Spencer says, and he can't help it, he glances down at Brendon's hips, at the back pocket where the bills are stuffed. "It has."

—

Oh god, and what if the other bartender mistakes Brendon and Spencer's conversation for _interest_ on Spencer's part, and doesn't realize how awkward and stilted the conversation is, and then he tries to help out by drumming up some more business for Brendon? Oh god. It would confirm everything that Spencer's 90% sure he just saw and Brendon would be mortified. He'd probably run and hide somewhere, or at the very least slip out of the bar into an alleyway to smoke or something.

—

yyyyyyy. The other barman usually slides a bit of custom Brendon's way, and so he wants to help out. He comes over and says, "I can manage here, if the two of you need to go outside. The back room is still free."

And Spencer would have no idea what to do, but he can't just walk away, because he knew Brendon once, and he had a crush on Brendon once, and now Brendon is apparently blowing people in a strip club back room and Spencer can't just leave that alone.

—

Spencer bites his lip. "Sure," Spencer says hesitantly, and he tries to telegraph to Brendon with the power of his mind that he just wants to talk to him alone, he's not actually interested in paying Brendon for a blowjob (granted, in some part of his brain he probably WOULD, but that's reserved for special fantasy time and not actual real life). Brendon's shocked expression is sort of priceless, but he looks away and then stuffs his hands in his pockets and tilts his head towards the side door.

"This way," Brendon says, sotto voice. "Second door on the left. I'll follow in a few minutes." 

"Right," Spencer says. He takes his drinks back to the table and quickly exits himself from the party, telling the groom he's had a work crisis that he needs to go take care of. Then he goes and stands awkwardly in the room Brendon pointed out to him, which turns out to be a private lap-dance room with mirrored walls and gaudy red velvet. Spencer looks around and he can't imagine having to do what Brendon is doing, all the time, in here. 

—

Spencer sits down on the cushioned bench and runs his fingers over the faded velvet. It looks just like the rest of this place, old and tired away from the gaudy lights and the girls with tiny outfits and big heels and even bigger tits. He has no fucking idea what Brendon's doing here, or what he's doing here either. It was a spur of the moment thing, and now he's regretting it. He wished he'd walked away before Brendon had seen him. 

When Brendon walks in a couple of minutes later, he's without the apron he wore behind the bar, and his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. He glances quickly up at the corner of the room, and back down to Spencer again. 

"I'm going to give you the prices, and then I'm going to give you the rules, and then you tell me what you want, okay?" His cheeks are flushed and Brendon's looking fixedly at a point just over Spencer's shoulder, awkward and tense. His shoulders are tight, and he's tapping his fingers against his thigh, just like he used to do whenever Ryan would get at him.

"I didn't—what?" Spencer says. "No. Brendon. That's not what I—"

"It's fifty if you just want a blowjob," Brendon says, talking over Spencer's protestations. "One hundred if you want it without a condom. Hand job is thirty-five, without a condom is sixty. If you want something else, you come back after we close and you talk to a few people and then we can work it out."

—

"Brendon—" Spencer says. It's easier if he can pretend that Brendon hasn't said these words to god-knows how many people in this same room. Now that they're in a well-lit room—or at least, better lit than the bar area—he can see how tired Brendon looks. He's too skinny by half and there's a fading bruise along his left cheekbone. Spencer pushes down a surge of anger at whoever did that Brendon. It's not going to help him right now. "That's not what I want, " Spencer says. "I would never. I just want to talk to you—"

"You don't touch me, you don't pull my hair, you don't try to come on my face, you don't choke me and you don't stiff me," Brendon says. "You're on camera. You do any of those things, there's going to be two guys busting through that door and they're not going to be very happy with you."

"Cameras?" Spencer says, his heart sinking.

"Cameras," Brendon says, and then he turns slightly, leaning down so that Spencer is directly in front of him. The cameras are right behind Spencer's head, he realizes. Brendon's angling himself so that no one can read his lips. 

"So for fuck's sake, just let me blow you and get it over with, asshole," Brendon snaps, in a muted whisper. "There's no audio, but they can read lips. What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"I didn't," Spencer says. "Brendon, I—"

"Apologize later," Brendon says, and after one more glare he straightens up, eyes flicking over Spencer's shoulder. "Now, pick or get out, it's your choice. But management doesn't take kindly to people who take up my time and then don't pay."

"Jesus," Spencer says. His head is spinning. College hasn't exactly left him completely inexperienced but this is new. Paying someone for sex is new. Paying _Brendon_ is even newer. Brendon looks desperate, and exhausted, and like he needs a good meal. Or six. He mentally calculates how much money he has in his wallet, and how much of that was supposed to be for a cab home. He figures he can at least go to the atm once he's out of this place. "I'm sorry," he says, because he can't not, but Brendon's gaze flicks to the camera, a muscle pounding in his cheek. "A hand job," he says quickly, and then remembers the spare twenty dollars in the back pocket of his wallet. "Without a condom." 

Brendon tilts his chin up, just a little, and nods. He looks tired and fierce and just a little like this is the last thing he's capable of dealing with. "Okay," he says. "It's sixty."

Spencer hands the money over slowly, conscious of their silent audience. 

"The other guy paid you after," Spencer says, and as soon as he opens his mouth he feels stupid but it's true, this isn't what Brendon did with that other guy.

"Owner's son," Brendon says shortly. "Special benefits. Take your pants off."

"Now?" Spencer says.

"No, tomorrow," Brendon says. "Take your fucking pants off, Spencer. Or push them down. Either way."

"Fuck, I didn't—" Spencer fumbles with his top button, standing up and looking down so that the camera doesn't see his face. "I just wanted to talk to you, Jesus, I'm sorry." He pushes down his jeans and then his underwear; he isn't hard. 

"Yeah, well," Brendon says, one hand to Spencer's shoulder. He nudges him down onto the seat again, and sits down next to him. The next thing Spencer knows, Brendon's wrapping his hand around Spencer's dick, and jerking him off. 

—

Spencer can't help it; he gets hard.

He doesn't know what to do, where to put his hands or where to look or _anything._ Brendon is jerking him off and it's weird and Brendon is _pissed_ , Spencer can tell. He shouldn't be getting hard in this situation. This is like the least sexy thing imaginable, and yet he's totally hard and Brendon's got a good grip and Spencer wants to sink into the floor. 

"I don't even know what to say," Spencer mutters, halfway through. He doesn't, that's the thing. There's nothing he can say in this situation, nothing at all.

"Most people don't," Brendon says. "I mean, you can call me a whore or something. Most guys like that. Go ahead, you're paying for it." 

"You're not a whore," Spencer says, careful to keep his face turned away from the cameras. "I would never say that to you. Ever." 

"I kind of am," Brendon says blithely, and then he's speeding up and Spencer can't THINK anymore. He comes fast and hard and then Brendon is pulling away and wiping his hand off with a wet napkin he's produced from god only knows where. He leaves without a backwards glance and it's only when Spencer finally pulls himself together and stands up does he realize that Brendon's slipped a business card into his back pocket. The front is for some random construction agency, but the back has a phone number and an address in Brendon's handwriting, and a time - three hours from now.

—

When he gets back out into the bar, Brendon's nowhere to be seen, and Spencer doesn't want to see the rest of the guys from his bachelor party, so he slips out the front and asks the bouncer where to find the nearest ATM. The bouncer smirks, clearly sure that Spencer wants more from the club's ladies, but whatever, Spencer doesn't. He goes and finds the atm, and then finds a diner, and then spends the next two hours nursing coffee on cracked red seats and trying not to think about the fact that he just paid someone for _sex_. 

He paid _Brendon_ for sex. 

Fuck.

—

(AND WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN NEXT????)

—

I DON'T KNOW. Maybe it's a really downtrodden area, and the front door to Brendon's building won't shut properly, and there's a dude sleeping in the doorway of the next building along, and Spencer's like, _what the fuck happened_? but then he knocks on Brendon's door, and Brendon's there, and showered, and in a t-shirt and shorts. His place is a dive, and there are four bills pinned to the wall by the tiny fridge, and all Spencer can think is _how did he end up here?_

_—_

;_____; brendon bb ;_________;

And maybe by the time Spencer gets there Brendon's gone from pissed off to tired, and so he just lets Spencer in and offers him some of Brendon's dinner (fruit punch from a powdered mix and stove-top ramen, respectively) and Spencer can't quite believe that this is where Brendon ended up, living in a slum and working at a strip bar and turning tricks on the side. There's a beat-up guitar leaning up against the kitchen counter, and it needs new strings and Spencer wants to ask if Brendon still makes music, but he doesn't know how to ask.

—

Finally, they can't avoid talking about it any longer, and Spencer carefully lines up his fork and his spoon by his cracked bowl. "I'm really sorry about earlier," he says finally. "I just—I wanted to talk to you. I didn't realize that you'd have to do that."

Brendon shrugs. "It's okay," he says. "I guess it kind of means you paid for dinner, though."

Spencer bites his lip. "Brendon," he says. "I mean. What happened?"

"I didn't want to go back to them," Brendon says, and Spencer knows he's talking about his family. "I couldn't do it. It was go back to them and be someone I didn't want to be, or stay here and try to figure it out on my own."

"And you stayed," Spencer says, even though he's stating the obvious.

"Not much you can do without a high school diploma," Brendon says. "I got my GED. Eventually. It took a while. I took night classes before my shifts started. You need a GED to go to bartending school." 

"But we're 22," Spencer says. "I mean. I'm 22. So you're 23. What did you do before you turned 21?"

Brendon smiles humorlessly at Spencer, and stays silent.

—

Spencer tries not to let his horror show on his face, because he hasn't seen Brendon in like, five years, and all this time he's been off living his life and going to college parties and occasionally dating, and working the occasional part time job and studying, and all this time Brendon's been—Brendon's been prostituting himself for cash. For a long moment, Spencer thinks he's going to be sick. 

"What happened with your parents?" Spencer asks. "Did you fight?"

"A little," Brendon says. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at his plate. "They didn't like me being in a band, and not going to church, and, you know, being gay. So I left."

 _Oh god_. "They didn't like you being in a band?" Spencer says softly, since they'd been in a band, and it had been their band and their friendship and it had just ended after Pete Wentz had come out to see them and half the band hadn't been able to get to the meeting. 

"Yeah," Brendon says, meeting Spencer's eyes. "They didn't like me being in a band."

"So they threw you out?" Spencer asks, thinking back and trying to figure out if he'd ever had any inkling that things weren't going well for Brendon. 

"I left," Brendon tells him, and he leans over to pick up Spencer's bowl and cutlery, going over and dumping them in the sink. "I told them the band was important to me, and I wouldn't give it up, and I left."

 _And they'd given him up,_ Spencer thinks, he and Ryan and Brent and their band.

—

# FEELINGS FOR BRENDON ;____; ALL THE FEELINGS OMFG HOLD ME ;___; 

—

ALL OF THE ANGST. DELICIOUS DELICIOUS ANGST. Also all of the comfort. All of it.

SO MUCH ANGST ;____;

—

Anyway. So it's Spencer's fault Brendon is broke and prostituting himself ;__; What happens next? Maybe Spencer offers to help and Brendon absolutely refuses.

—

Maybe Spencer has just done nothing since graduating college. He's moved back home and he's doing some work in the doctor's office his mom works at, and that's it. So he invites brendon for dinner with his parents the following day, and secretly plans out how he's going to rescue brendon. Not that brendon will let him, but that isn't the point. Spencer packages up all of the leftovers for Brendon, and ignores his mom when she says that his dad normally takes the leftover lasagna to work for lunch. 

"We're giving them to Brendon," he says, "and I'll tell you why later, but now I'm going to pretend we can't fit them in the freezer and they'll go to waste. And then I'm going to go drop him off and see if he'll hang out with me for a while, and then I'm going to come here and cry like a manly fucking man because I fucked up so badly, we all did, and he's had no one all this time and he did it for us, for our band—"

"Spence," his mom says, hand to his shoulder. "Give Brendon the food. See how big his freezer is and you can take whatever you think will fit tomorrow. And tell him we're having a barbecue next weekend, and if he's free we expect to see him."

"We're not—" Spencer says. 

"We are now," she says, and Spencer nods, swallowing. 

So Brendon starts to spend time with Spencer, and Spencer realizes that he's just been coasting along with no aim, relying on his parents to provide for him because he doesn't have a clue what to do now he's finished college. So he gets some pamphlets about cooking school, and he talks to Brendon about them owning their own restaurant and bar once Spencer's done with school. And after a while, Spencer says that he can't stay at home by himself any longer, but he can't afford to live alone. 

"It'll be cheaper to share," he says levelly, and Brendon looks the other way and nods. 

—

Brendon isn't stupid, he knows what Spencer's doing, can see it from a mile away. But he's tired of dealing with all of the bullshit that's come along with the life he'd chosen for himself, and he honestly kind of does like bartending, when he thinks about it. He likes talking to people and he likes practicing agility tricks when no one is looking and he likes making up weird concoctions and he thinks that if he ever figured out a way out of this mess he's made for himself, he would actually really like to be a bartender somewhere where he didn't have to gargle after coming out of the back room. He'd like that. It would be nice, to be a real person who isn't required to have sex at his day job with whoever asks. That would be nice.

So he doesn't shoot Spencer down when Spencer starts talking about how they could maybe figure something out once he's done with cooking school, and he doesn't complain too much when Spencer insists on bringing all of his food and ingredients over and practicing in Brendon's dirty kitchen. And then when Spencer suggests they should just get a place Brendon says yes, even though it's getting harder and harder to spend all of his time around Spencer like this, knowing that Spencer would never want Brendon the way Brendon wants him. Brendon's pretty sure that after this he either needs to move out of Vegas and change his name or live a life of celibacy, because he's sick of running into strip-club patrons when he's food shopping at the A+P and having them give him a righteous, knowing eye. It's so stupid, because Brendon's next door neighbor growing up was totally a stripper and his mom used to go over there and trade recipes with her and gossip over herbal tea, but apparently there's a double standard for female strippers and male rentboys, even in Vegas. He's lonely, lonely enough to take whatever company Spencer wants to offer him, but he's not going to put him through that.

—

The day they move in together is also the day Spencer trips up, breaks the six new mugs his mom and dad had bought them as a moving in gift, gets blood on his favourite jeans and tells Brendon that he's in love with him. The last part is the most accidental, since apparently Spencer gets shaky and a bit weird at the sight of that much blood, and it's possible—although he won't admit to it—that his life flashed before his eyes and he knew that he had to do it, and he had to do it now. 

Brendon sticks a selection of band-aids over the cut on Spencer's palm, and says, "There. All better. Now go do something useless for a while and don't try and lift anything."

"I'm in love with you," Spencer says, all of a sudden. "In case I die in a suitcase related incident, or am smothered by my new comforter when I'm trying to make my bed. I thought you should know."

Brendon looks down at the floor. "You don't mean that," he says. "Not really. It's probably just, I don't know. Too much time in the same room as me. We should get a dog."

"I'm still going to be in love with you," Spencer tells him, although he doesn't exactly think that getting a dog is such a bad idea. Brendon needs all of the love he can get, and Spencer's pretty sure that a dog will love Brendon unconditionally. "But I like the idea of a dog."

"I'm a hooker, Spence," Brendon says. "I have sex for money. With men."

"I know," Spencer says. "I was one of the people you had sex with. For money."

Brendon colors. "I thought we were going to call that you buying me dinner."

Spencer covers Brendon's hand with his own. "Nothing you can say is going to make me change my mind. I figure you should know that. But, uh. If you don't feel the same way, then I'll do my best to make sure it doesn't fuck things up with me and you living together."

"I'm a hooker," Brendon says. 

"You're you," Spencer says. "You're the bravest person I know."

Brendon blinks furiously and looks the other way. He wipes his nose on his sleeve. "Nobody's ever said that to me."

"Well, everybody's stupid, then. You're brave, and you're an awesome bartender, and my best friend, and I love you."

"And I have sex for money," Brendon adds. "I see people I've had sex with in the grocery store. People come into the club. People are going to know, Spence. If I'm with you, people are going to know that you're having sex with a hooker."

"People are going to know I'm having sex with you," Spencer says steadily. "They're going to wish they were me."

"I mean it. People are going to know you're having sex with a prostitute, and they're going to talk."

"I am a big boy," Spencer tells him. "I know all of that and I'm still in love with you, and I still want to get a dog. With you. I want there to be something for you to come home to."

Brendon swallows. "You're not going to want me anymore if you find out I've been having sex with other people. It's going to hurt. I'm going to get hurt."

Spencer squeezes his hand. "I'm not asking for anything. Just you."

Brendon wipes his nose again. His shoulders shake. "I'm really fucking in love with you," he says. "I love you so much I can barely see straight. Please don't let me start this with you if I'm going to get hurt. I can't do that. I won't have anything left, and I can't do that again. Please, Spence."

Spencer curls his fingers into Brendon's, and lifts Brendon's hand to his mouth. He kisses the back of Brendon's hand. 

"You weirdo," Brendon tries to laugh, but his voice shakes. 

"I love you," Spencer says. 

"I'm not going to do this forever. I hate it. But I can't promise I'm not going to do it again. The hooking. You're going to be dating a cheap prostitute."

"I'm going to be dating you" Spencer says. He doesn't let go of Brendon's hand, and his heart beats wildly in his chest. "If you'll have me."

Brendon's breath hitches. "Oh, fuck," he says. "Spencer—"

Spencer strokes at the back of Brendon's neck. "Let's get a dog. You and me, let's get a dog."

Brendon closes the distance between them and presses his mouth to Spencer's, dry and desperate and the best fucking thing Spencer's ever experienced in the whole of his life. 

"Okay," Brendon says, and Spencer's heart leaps. 

—

So they take it slow, or at least they attempt to take it slow and end up making out for hours on top of Spencer's bare mattress and a pile of towels that somehow ended up in the pots and pans box. Brendon's tense at first, even through his obvious approval of this sudden 180 degree turn of events. He keeps tensing up under Spencer's hands every time Spencer moves, like he's waiting for Spencer to suddenly remember he's making out with 23-year-old Brendon Urie, and not the 17-year-old version.

"Do you not want to do this?" Spencer says eventually, tipping his head against Brendon's forehead. "Because we don't have to. I mean, actually no, I'm not unselfish enough to say that and really mean it, but—if you want to take this slow. We can take this slow."

"Slow might be good," Brendon says. "Or like. It might have been good before we moved in together."

"Right." Spencer says.

"I just don't want to fuck it up," Brendon says. "I don't want either of us to regret this. I really do actually want to try and open a restaurant with you someday." 

"Awesome," Spencer says. "Me too." 

"Okay," Brendon says. "Right. So. We should fuck and get it over with, then." 

"We should—yes," Spencer says hurriedly. "Absolutely. Yes. Wait. What?"

"I get jittery the first time," Brendon says. "I mean. Not at work, I just tune most of that out. But like. I'm going to be all weird about this until we get the weirdness out of the way, so we should fuck. Because I really want to fuck you." 

" _Yes,_ " Spencer says, and then wonders if he was maybe a little too emphatic on that count. 

"I mean, I like _sex_ ," Brendon says, sitting back up and shimmying out of his jeans, tossing them over to rest on top of his discarded shirt on Spencer's bedroom floor. "That's not the part I don't like. It's just. It's more complicated than that." 

"And you don't get to choose who it is, and that sucks," Spencer agrees, tugging his clothing off as fast as possible, and then realizing he has no idea where either lube or condoms might be. Fuck.

"And I don't get to choose," Brendon agrees. "But when I get to choose, I like it. A lot." He looks down at Spencer. "This is the part where I hope you remember where you packed the condoms. Because I have no fucking clue, seriously." 

"Um," Spencer says. "Uh. No?"

"Fuck," Brendon says. "It's not - I get tested once a month, but still. It's not really an option for me to go without. For us. If we can't—I'm not doing it without."

"Yeah," Spencer says. He tries to think. Seriously, he has no idea where anything is, and he definitely has no idea where he packed his sex supplies. He just wants Brendon to fuck him with something, anything. Maybe—He has some organic all natural fancy-ass olive oil in a box in the kitchen, which will be messy as hell but it will work, and he's got—

"Kitchen," Spencer says, sitting up suddenly. "Wait, fuck. I've got it. I bought latex gloves to handle all those chili peppers I have to use next week. They're in the kitchen in that big box. And there's, um, there's some really high-quality oils in that box," Spencer says, feeling his face heat. "You could use them for, uh. Stuff. Internal stuff. Internal fisting stuff. If you want."

"Oh," Brendon says, starting to grin wider. He licks his lips. " _Oh._ "

—

So they manage to have very enjoyable safe sex the first time around, and Spencer gets fisted and comes his brains out and then he pulls some gloves on and jerks Brendon off and Brenon comes on his stomach and they're careful and everyone is pretty damn happy with the arrangement, especially once they find the condoms and _especially_ once Brendon comes back from the free clinic a few weeks later to say that he's still clean. 

It's not a free pass, of course, but it does mean they can risk some unprotected blowjobs for a few days before Brendon gets called in to work again. Sometimes Brendon gets weird about it, and apologizes too much, but Spencer never minds having the take the extra precautions and mostly he just worries about Brendon all the time, and pushes for him to stop offering anything that's unprotected, which he manages to do after causing a lot of noticeable problems but not quite enough to get himself fired, beaten up, or otherwise endangered. It's a fine and stressful line, and they're both counting down the days until Spencer's student loan refund comes through, and Brendon can quit his job and start looking for work. He's been searching during the day, but he can't go into interviews at night to prove that he's as good a bartender as he says he is, and it's starting to hurt his job prospects. 

And then one night Brendon comes back grinning ear to ear and Spencer looks up from his mess of a kitchen table and the remains of his failed pastry dough, and he knows even before Brendon's said anything that something has taken a turn for the better, because he's practically vibrating and he picks Spencer up and kisses him and swings him around, which doesn't work very well but it's a noble attempt. And Spencer finds out that not only has Brendon quit his job, but one of the other bartenders got him a lead on an opening in a restaurant where his cousin runs the kitchen, and after quitting Brendon had walked out and straight into said restaurant and worked a full shift and managed to convince his friend's cousin to hire him on the spot. Spencer blows him in the kitchen, and he can barely even taste the latex over the way his stomach feels all light and airy and happy and the way Brendon tugs on his hair and groans every time Spencer takes him deeper. 

And so everything ends up happily, and Spencer gets direction in his life and trains as a chef and he and Brendon open their own place, with Brendon running the bar and Spencer overseeing the kitchen and they have an apartment together and live happily ever after, and eventually even Brendon's parents come 'round and have of course been looking for him for years and are thrilled to take him back into their family, and there is sunshine and kittens and secret make-out sessions behind Brendon's bar when all the other employees have gone home. 

\o/


End file.
